It wasn’t even a commotion. You’d think, coming for a child would cause a bit of commotion, would be something of notice. But it wasn’t. The Beadle came into the shop, tipped his hat at Albert and I was sent to get the child ready. I don’t even think the two men exchanged money. Not ever a word really. What did that say about the state London was going in; when two men traded a girl as if she were spice? We were going to hell. The whole country. Damned.
I went up to the former barbershop, and the worst part of it, I was calm as can be. What was there for me to do? I had no claim to the child, and Lucy wasn’t about to protest. She’d taken to sleeping all day, and pacing all night. Sometimes I could hear her, muttering and sputtering about something, but lord knew what. She was a sorry state. A mess. Nothing at all the woman Benjamin had left behind. And at the time, passed out, she was curled up in the corner. I learned how to ignore her, as if she was nothing but a piece of furniture. Something the last tenant forgot. Everyone ignored her. It was the only thing to do.
Johanna rested, so unaware, in the opposite corner. Bundled up in blankets and sunshine. Such a sweet sight. Benjamin’s baby girl, about to become the property of another man. Heartbreaking. But there had to be something to mark her with the life she was being sold out of.
I carefully slipped my reticule from my pocket and emptied it of the two shillings and toffee. Those I would need, the purse I could do without. I tucked the small-netted purse in between the folds of Johanna’s blanket as I wrapped her up. At the very least, I wanted her to know that somewhere, once, there was a woman who cared for her. Maybe, even a mother. That made me smile. Some small token from the life she was originally part of. I was sure that if Lucy were in her right mind she would have wanted the same for her daughter… Ah, but if Lucy were in her right mind we wouldn’t have been dealing in this dreadful business in the first place. Who poisons themselves with a bity baby to care for? Oh, but I felt sure that one day Benjamin would return the favour. Silly, I knew.
I lifted her carefully out of the only bed she had ever known, and with the small link to her roots, I handed baby Johanna over to Beadle Bamford.
It was obvious that the Beadle had never held a baby. He had his arms in awkward angles and struggled to keep her calm. I’d imagine the Judge would have sent a carriage to collect his new prize, but who knew. I didn’t dare look out. Didn’t want to know anymore of it.
“You can dispose of the belongings anyway you see fit. Should you need the money,” he juggled Johanna in his arms, the few blankets she was wrapped in shifted around but everything stayed together.
Albert smirked, holding open the door; “With friends like Judge Turpin and yourself I couldn’t imagine being in need of a thing from now on.”
The Beadle gave my husband a curt nod, a knowing nod. Ah, so that was it then. The poor child had been traded for finances, an open tab. Of the many things one could say about Albert, you could never deny he was shrewd. Heartless maybe, seeing as he had no qualms prostituting out someone else’s daughter, but always with a head for business.
On his way out the Beadle stopped, and for the first time he looked up to meet my eyes. I wonder what he saw when he looked at me now, would he remember this baker if we ever crossed paths again? Did I make him feel the least bit of shame for his dealings? I’d never know.
“Perhaps ma’am, I should send someone by from Bedlum for the Misses?” He turned back to Albert; purposely avoiding the nest Lucy had made for herself, “So she won’t be a bother.”
“No!” I all but jumped at the men. I couldn’t imagine what Benjamin would think if I let these men drag his wife off as well. Even if she was simple as a dormouse now, and of no use. “I mean, why cause a scene? Having white coats running all over the pie shop. I’ll take her. I’ll walk her there myself,” I offered them a stretched smile, and it appeased them. Neither of them cared what happened to poor Lucy now, just as long as she was out of their way.
The Beadle nodded, and Albert only shrugged before they disappeared out the door. Lucy Barker would be the cross I had to bear. I would take that much onto myself.
I waited for nightfall, the dark to cover all our sins, before I roused Lucy. It was a long enough walk to Bedlum, to those tall asylum walls. What was there left for her outside those walls? She had no husband, no child. And no mind. And it wasn’t all that long ago she wished to have no life as well. It was a choice Lucy herself had set herself up for. I was just finishing the job.
I wrapped an old shawl around her shoulders, tucked Johanna’s doll in her cradled arms and marched her down Fleet street. Saddest sight I ever did see. And not once did she ask me where we were headed. Not once did she ever ask about Johanna. Not once did she shed a tear. She only hummed some sad little tune that sounded like a lullaby, but too much like a funeral march. Didn’t seem to care one bit for what was going on around her. She’d checked out of life, and was trapped in a new one. Something in her head.
"You’ll get what you need dearie,” I held her steady with a hand on her elbow and offered her fake smiles. She seemed content enough with those. Seemed as though she had not a care in this world. Should we all be as lucky.
Would Benjamin be as content with the fate for his family? A broken woman and sold daughter. He should never learn of this. Never learn of the pathetic state his once precious Lucy dropped herself into. I never would. Never would tell him of such a thing. There’d be no reason for it. Nothing but added heartache and tragedy. No one should have to suffer that knowledge.
I stopped Lucy in front of the large, stone entrance. Her eyes wild and crazed under the calm twist of her mouth. But she didn’t see a thing that was of this world. She wasn’t Lucy Barker anymore. That woman had died. She died the moment that glass vile touched her lips. Or the moment Judge Turpin had touched her. Either way, that woman was long gone leaving this mess in her wake.
“Listen to me,” I tried to make her look at me, acknowledge that I was there at all, “I’ll never tell him. He’ll never know what mess you’re in now. It’d be better that you died, not carried on in such a way.” I was sure I saw some flicker of recognition in her glass eyes. She had to know who he was. She had to know. Not even arsenic could erase a man like Benjamin Barker from your mind. Or maybe it would do her better if it had.
I rang the large iron bell hanging over the asylum’s door. It echoed like a dying voice, bellowed. Soon, a small man in a white jacket came out. He looked the pair of us over as if we were both offerings for his strange appetites.
“Something from Judge Turpin,” I passed Lucy forward. I knew it was a dangerous thing to say, but I couldn’t resist. There was no other reason she was there. Nothing beyond the Judge and her own stupidity. And I didn’t have the funds to commit her.
The man, Fogg I believe, pulled her inside. He didn’t much care who she was, or where she came from. Though, I didn’t wish to know what he cared about. Or for, for that matter. Sad state.
As the doors closed, Lucy reached forward, her eyes narrowed at me, she recognised me, “You!” Her voice croaked with the only word I’d been able to make out from this new version of her. And the latch clicked.
Cursed. That’s what she was then. Only making a last effort for something. Or something. I never told her to do it. Never told her to seek the cold embrace of death from poison, or search for the purgatory from taking her own life. She never did listen to me.
There’s no way that twisted mind could remember a poor baker woman. No reason to either.
It rained the whole way home. Seemed the angels were crying to wash away our sins. Or all damnation was falling from the skies to punish us. London never would be the same after that. I could never look at it the same. I found myself wondering what it was like in Australia. Would it be raining there like it was here? Would Benjamin be looking up at the same sky?
I came back to the shop, soaked to the bones, and I knew a fever was seeping itself into my mind. What else would explain the ragged sobs I now let rack my body? Or the light-headedness that made my knees buckle?
“There, there Nellie,” Albert offered a cold comfort, his paw like hand guiding me to sit in front of the fire, “Silly woman. It’s for the best it is. No reason to be down. She’ll have better than anyone can provided around here. Best to forget all this nasty business of the Barkers too. Nothing but wasted trouble they were. Cursed I’d say. Best thing for her. Get that into your head Nellie.”
Better off? Was she? Trapped behind those walls in her broken mind. A broken family. I looked up at him with wide, begging eyes – my husband, the man I swore to love for my whole life – I needed to know what was done was right. A sorry thing I must have looked.
“Better to have that mess out of our way,” he gave a curt nod, “And you’d better dry up…leaving wet all over the floor. We’ve got to pawn off the rest of their junk from upstairs.” That was the end of his worry than. Nothing at all for the young family that had fallen apart under our roof.
If a man like Albert could so easily trade other people’s lives away, what would stop him from trading mine? Sometimes you’ve got to do things you wouldn’t normally do.
You’ve got to be strong and learn to do things for yourself. Don’t want to end up half crazed and locked up without a will of your own. Must have more brains than that.
I patted my pocket, feeling the arsenic bottle press itself against my thigh.
